Some of you may know that eating disorders are about perfectionism most of the time. They are about wanting to please everyone. About wanting control when it feels like they have none.
Last week my niece got sick. REALLY sick. Like, no one, even the infectious disease specialist, knew if she would make it through the night, the hour, or the surgery.
She’s 3. And the perfect little angel child. I’m her favorite aunt, and my name was one of the first she could say when she learned to talk.
Well, she’s sick and I can’t go see her. And there’s nothing I can do for her. And there’s nothing I can do for my brother when he cries for his little girl. And I can’t go in the hospital even if I was in the right city or state. And I wasn’t the one to paint her toenails when nothing else would keep her mind off the pain.
I was once told that eating disorders are the hardest addictions to overcome. With food,……you can’t escape it. You CAN’T avoid it, because that’s what your problem was to begin with! You have to deal with it. You have to slowly create a healthy relationship with food. You have to learn to accept your (to replace perfectionism). You have to accept that you can’t always be in control. You can’t stop your niece’s pain. You can magically come up with a couple hundred dollars for a flight to see her, and you can’t force the doctors to let you into her room to make her smile.
So during this time of weakness I found out that now I hear even more loudly my coworkers telling each other how many calories they ate, and my friends talk about how much weight they want to lose. And the commercials ring in my ears about the new “taco bell diet” and the new “half the calories, all the same G” Gatorade commercials, and the people might as well scream in my face how they avoided stretch marks when they were pregnant and how much weight they gained and how long it took them to get back in shape. Even people who tell me I look great seem to be telling me that they are paying attention to my body and what it looks like, so make sure it doesn’t change because they’ll notice that too. In those moments of weakness, I find myself mentally rocking myself back and forth, back and forth, telling my healthy self it’s okay.
But it’s exhausting. And it’s hard to keep drowning out those voices. It’s hard to ignore. It’s hard to take time to feel what I feel and talk myself into staying healthy. It seems almost inescapable.
I’m getting too personal, aren’t I? I’m getting too serious? Maybe it sounds crazy. It feels crazy sometimes.
But somehow I stay healthy. And somehow I seem to be able to get s tronger every day. I still read, I still have to avoid situations and people, and I still pray for help daily. Sometimes I feel like I should be over this eating disorder thing already.
But it’s a process. It’s a journey. One of my favorite quotes is by Gordon Hinckley. He says, “[The fact is] most putts don't drop. Most beef is tough. Most children grow up to be just people. Most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration. Most jobs are more often dull than otherwise. . . .
"Life is like an old-time rail journey-delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed.
"'The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride'".
And that’s what keeps me going on those rough days.